The Hole Inside of Sam
by BaconRules101
Summary: Sam can't seem to fill the gaping hole inside of him.


Sam never liked to eat. It was a thing he had since he was little and Dean just couldn't comprehend why. Dean's always enjoyed food. He could never get enough of it. He always Sam was skinny when they were in high school, but he never knew how skinny. Sam ate... once in awhile.

It wasn't until Sam's fourteenth birthday until Dean started noticing. Sam poked and prodded at his 'birthday lunch' but he never took a bite. Later that night, Sam didn't even touch dinner.

Dean softly knocked on his little brother's door, not bothering to wait for a response. He walked in on his brother changing his shirt. This would've been normal except that Sam was so damn thin. His ribs poked out and he could see his baby brother's spine.

"Sammy?" The question rang out through the room and Sam quickly pulled his shirt on.

"Dean? What's the matter?"

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, examining him. "I should be asking you the same thing,"

A look of confusion passed over Sam's face, but Dean just shook his head. "Forget it." And left the room without a sound. He kicked the dusty motel wall behind him.

The next morning Dean silently pushed a bowl of cereal towards Sam. All he says is "Not hungry" before pushing his food away.

"What's wrong?" He blurted out, not knowing what else to say. He was extremely frustrated. All he wanted to do was help his brother. But he couldn't even protect him from himself.

"Nothing. Just not hungry."

God, he made it sound so simple. Like that's all it could be. But he knows his brother's already a great liar and it breaks his heart.

For dinner, Dean spends his own money he's been saving up for hell knows what and uses it to cook the first real meal they've had in months, maybe even years. Sam raises a questioning eyebrow when he sees Dean actually working in the kitchen, but doesn't say anything.

He puts a salad and plate of steak and potatoes in front of the younger Winchester and sits down in front of the boy, watching his face closely.

Sam met his green eyes, confused. But nonetheless he takes a bite, and another, and another until all the food is gone.

After that, he didn't eat a lot, but he still ate. And Dean couldn't be happier about it.

When Sam turned twenty-six, he never didn't eat for two days and was all skin and bones. Dean couldn't help but notice and that was the day he punched the TV and broke it, and sprained his knuckles while he was at it.

"What happened to the TV?" Sam asks, scanning the motel room for more signs of destruction while Dean looked for the same thing in his Sammy's face.

"I don't know, Sam. What happened to you?" Dean's angry and has every right to be.

Sam furrows his eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

Dean takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. "What was the last thing you ate?" He closed his eyes, not wanting to see his younger brother's face. "Dammit, Sam, tell me!" He yelled, knocking the things off the desk easily.

Tears were welling up in Sam's eyes, shaking his head. "Dean, I-"

"Or how about when? When was the last time you ate? Do you even eat anymore? Is this a way of killing yourself?" A form of a sob escaped Sam's lips. "You're broken. And I just want to fix you. I just want to fix my baby brother, god dammit!" He screams, the sounds bouncing off the walls.  
Sam didn't speak a word. Dean had done all the talking for him. His heavy breaths finally calmed as Sam closed his eyes, not daring to face his older brother.

Dean's hands gripped his shoulder, shaking him. "Eat. It doesn't have to be for yourself. Just for me. For me. Please."

They have pizza delivered and Sam eats one whole piece.

When Sam turns thirty, when he's going through the trials to shut the gates of hell forever, he's incredibly sick. He's shaking and sweating and his temperature is too damn high. And he hasn't eaten in three days.

"Sam, you need to eat."

Dean's sad about how he's so used to saying this word to his brother.

"I'm trying to focus for the next trial," That was Sam's excuse every time Dean asked him to eat. And Dean was this close to shoving the damn food down Sam's damn throat.

Sam sighs, rubbing his hand over his eyes. He also hasn't slept in three days.

"I'm fine,"

"Bullshit."

"I'm not lying. I'm not lying. I'm not lying," Sam says over and over again, as if that will make it true.

Dean sighs, putting his hands over his head and walking away. He was furious. "When was the last time you ate, Sam?"

Sam shrugs, because he really doesn't know.

"Three days. Three fucking days. These trials are ripping you apart." He doesn't want to lose his brother, not like this.

"It doesn't matter. After this is finished, everything will be okay," He says if he acts like it's the truth, it will be the truth.

Dean wants to just cry and sob and die. "You won't make it that far if you don't eat."

Sam is so angry and so tired of this shit, he grabs the plate from across the table and shoves the food all down his throat, then throwing the rest at Dean. He doesn't, can't, swallow and throws up in the trashcan.

"I can't eat, Dean. I have this gaping hole inside of me and it just throbs and hurts and always reminds me that it's there and the only way I can numb the pain inside of me is by starving myself. I can focus on that and not the void in the monster that is me. Okay? Are you fucking happy now?" Sam yells throwing the chair and the plate and everything he can find in his reach at Dean. Because he's just so damn empty and sad and alone.

"We can fix this. Together. You and I. I can help you. You just had to ask."

Sam shakes his head. "You never made that clear,"

And that makes Dean hate himself a little bit more.

An hour later, Dean cooked a beautiful meal that he is very proud of himself for. He smiles as his slides the food to Sam, watching his reaction.

Sam eats all the salad, steak, and potatoes.

"This is way better than it was when we were kids."

"I've learned a lot since then."

And Dean has.


End file.
